


come to bed, i’ll be your girl

by softeldritch (orphan_account)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Feminization, Lingerie, M/M, Mild Degradation, Winnipeg Jets, literally nobody ever look at me again.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22440928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/softeldritch
Summary: Patrik huffs a laugh into the kiss. “I think you’d make a pretty girl, though,” he murmurs, nipping at Nikolaj’s lips.Nikolaj’s head goes a little blank.
Relationships: Nikolaj Ehlers/Patrik Laine
Comments: 12
Kudos: 130





	come to bed, i’ll be your girl

**Author's Note:**

> i blame literally everyone over on twitter for this
> 
> (title from _i’ll be your girl_ by carly rae jepsen)

“I got something for you,” Patrik says, low and heavy in Nikolaj’s ear right after they’ve stepped back into their apartment, and warmth curls in Nikolaj’s belly even as he narrows his eyes. He knows what _ that _ tone means.

“What for?” he asks, shrugging out of his coat. Patrik helps him halfway, slipping it off the rest of the way and hanging it up in the closet. Nikolaj watches him and works his jaw, pretending he’s not affected by Patrik pulling the whole gentleman act. He’d complained when Patrik insisted on paying at dinner and rolled his eyes when Patrik kept holding doors open for him—but he’s pretty sure it’s a lost cause, because every single time Patrik just gave him a knowing smile and didn’t say anything.

Patrik hums, and doesn’t answer the question. He’s not facing Nikolaj but the smile playing around his lips is obvious, and Nikolaj narrows his eyes even more.

“What for,” he repeats, deadpan.

Patrik snickers. “I can’t buy my boyfriend nice things?”

The problem is that he can, and _ does_. Nikolaj’s got a lot of really nice jewelry he can rarely wear, a lot of expensive suits that have pretty much replaced his game day wardrobe, and . . . a lot of other stuff.

Like a few months ago. “Last time you literally bought me—you bought a _ collar_,” he drags out, flushing red-hot, crossing his arms over his chest. Patrik’s grin just widens, and he turns to meet Nikolaj head-on. “So I don’t really trust you buying me stuff out of nowhere.”

Patrik raises his eyebrows. “You wore it, though.”

“Whatever.” Nikolaj turns, heading into the apartment so Patrik can’t see how his cheeks burn even hotter. “So what’d you get me?”

Patrik crowds up behind him, stopping him with big hands around his waist. He noses at Nikolaj’s hair, drags his teeth across the shell of Nikolaj’s ear, and Nikolaj shivers and sways back into his touch without even meaning to. “You really wanna see?” He kisses just under Nikolaj’s jaw. “I thought you didn’t like when I buy you stuff out of nowhere.”

Arching his neck, Nikolaj threads his fingers over Patrik’s where they’re curled almost bruising-tight around his waist. “Well, now I’m curious,” he drawls, managing to keep his voice steady.

They go to their bedroom, hands laced together. Patrik manhandles him until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, gives him a crooked grin, and turns to rummage through their closet. A few seconds later he’s tugging out a plain white garment box, and heat prickles up Nikolaj’s spine at the idea of what might be in there.

Patrik places the box almost delicately in Nikolaj’s lap. “Go ahead,” he says quietly, standing at full height in front of Nikolaj. The height difference is even more dramatic like this and Nikolaj feels it down the length of his spine to the pit of his gut.

With trembling hands, Nikolaj carefully takes off the top of the box. Whatever’s inside is concealed by a few layers of pale pink tissue paper. He unfolds that until he can finally see the contents.

His breath catches, heart thumping painfully in his chest.

It’s all floral lace, pearly white and so delicate Nikolaj’s almost afraid to touch it. There’s a pair of panties, which is nothing new, but—

There’s also a pair of lacy stockings. And—Nikolaj swallows, trying not to hyperventilate and pass and or something just as ridiculous—a tiny, strappy little bralette.

That. That’s a lot.

“Um,” he says. He can’t say anything else. 

Patrik’s hands frame his face, warm and heavy and solid, and that helps. Steadying, when Nikolaj suddenly feels like he’s lost his footing, like he’s completely off balance. “Niky,” Patrik says, quiet and careful. Slowly, he tips Nikolaj’s head up, and his blue eyes are completely serious. “Is everything okay?” He doesn’t sound worried, really, just gentle, and that helps calm Nikolaj’s racing heartbeat.

Nikolaj drags in a breath, keeping it slow. He breathes out just as slowly. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips and Patrik’s eyes track the movement. “I’m, uh.” He swallows. “I don’t know. If I can, uh.” He gestures at the contents of the garment box. “It’s kinda too . . . girly?” His voice goes all soft and breathy on the last word, and he winces at how _ small _ he sounds.

“That’s fine, Niky,” Patrik says, his mouth crooking in a smile. “It’s not really fun if you don’t want it too.”

That should calm Nikolaj down. It doesn’t, really. 

He shoves the box aside and wraps his arms around Patrik’s neck, tugging him down into a messy kiss. Their teeth knock together and Nikolaj’s nose is squished but as soon as Patrik licks into his mouth he’s lightheaded, a muffled moan slipping into the kiss. Together they tip back onto the bed, Patrik braced over him, shoving his thigh between Nikolaj’s to give him something to grind against.

Patrik huffs a laugh into the kiss. “I think you’d make a pretty girl, though,” he murmurs, nipping at Nikolaj’s lips.

Nikolaj’s head goes a little blank. Heat burns over his skin and he bites at Patrik’s mouth, grinding his dick against Patrik’s thigh, and the box goes forgotten after that.

* * *

Except that Nikolaj can’t stop thinking about it.

Patrik has always called him pretty, especially when they fuck. When they first started dating Nikolaj didn’t really know how to feel about it. The word always gave him a hot, squirmy feeling in his belly, especially with the way Patrik said it, low and crooning and with all the conviction he’s always had. He got used to it after a while. He’s maybe even willing to admit he’s more than just used to it.

Now, though. Every time Patrik calls him pretty, Nikolaj imagines just how pretty he _ would _ be.

He tries not to think about it. It’s almost overwhelming, makes him breathless and unsteady and shaky. But a few times when he’s alone he imagines Patrik’s hands tracing over the pearl-white lace of the panties, dragging up his waist to tug at the straps of the bralette. He wonders how the lace of the stockings would feel on his legs, whether they’d be tight enough around his thighs to make his legs prickle. He imagines himself, slender and winter-pale, dolled up in lingerie while Patrik’s fully dressed.

Mostly, he thinks about what Patrik said.

_ You’d make a pretty girl_.

* * *

Patrik’s out with the Finns when Nikolaj sends him a text; a picture of the empty garment box, pink tissue spilling over the sides, and the words _ come home? _ He doesn’t let himself think about it, just presses send on the text then stares at the tiny _ Delivered _ message, working his jaw.

Five seconds go by. The message doesn’t change to _ Read_. Obviously.

Nikolaj’s kinda tempted to just keep staring at it, but. Staring isn’t actually going to make it change. So instead he gets up off the couch, leaving his phone behind, and heads further back into their bedroom.

He’s . . . not really sure what he’s supposed to do now.

Sprawling on the bed feels cheap, but just sitting there feels fucking awkward. It really is a lot easier doing shit like this when Patrik’s right _ there_, because then Patrik can put his hands on Nikolaj’s waist and his mouth on Nikolaj’s throat and Nikolaj can just let go. Trust Patrik with everything. That’s what he usually does, because usually this stuff is all Patrik’s idea anyway.

Sure, Patrik’s the one who bought the lingerie set. Nikolaj’s got no one to blame but himself for the rest of it.

The outfit just felt. Incomplete.

Nikolaj still doesn’t know what to do next, so he just turns and looks at himself in the mirror facing the end of their bed. Then immediately regrets it because it’s too_ much_.

He just . . . looks so small and pretty. So _ feminine_.

There’s the lingerie, of course. That’s the whole point. But then there’s the lip gloss, pale pink and shiny even in the dim lighting, making his mouth look spit-slick and kiss-swollen already. He shaved the beard—he shaved his _ legs_—and it makes him look younger, makes his vicious blush even brighter.

(He almost got heels. Maybe another time. He’s pretty sure Patrik wouldn’t mind seeing him stumbling around, the asshole.)

The worst part—the part that chokes him up, makes his legs wobble—is that he’s wearing a skirt. It’s a soft baby pink, pleated and so tiny it barely covers his ass.

Nikolaj tugs at the hem. His knuckles brush his thighs, pressing the fabric of the stockings against his hairless legs, sending electricity racing up his spine. “Fuck,” he mumbles, toes curling in the carpet. Fuck, even his _ voice _ is different. Softer, somehow.

He looks at the curve of his thighs, the slightness of his waist. When his eyes flick up he notices he looks almost drunk; his pupils are huge and dark, his lips parted as he struggles to catch his breath.

It’s kind of scary how appealing it all is.

_ You’d make a pretty girl_. Nikolaj can’t stop hearing it.

He doesn’t really know how long he’s been standing here staring at himself. Maybe a little too long. Because suddenly there’s a key turning in the door, and Nikolaj’s heart thuds painfully hard in his chest when he hears the door swing open and Patrik step inside. 

“Niky,” Patrik calls, and Nikolaj’s gut clenches at the sharpness of his tone. 

Nikolaj swallows. His fingers curl into fists. “In here,” he manages, wincing at the crack in his voice.

He hears Patrik shrugging off his coat. Taking his time with it, because now that he’s here he’s obviously gonna be an asshole about it and make Nikolaj wait. “That wasn’t very nice,” Patrik’s saying, not-quite-fake chastisement lacing his words, curling hot and heavy around Nikolaj’s spine. “What if I crashed on the way home?”

_ Don’t drive like a dumbass_, Nikolaj wants to snark back. But Patrik’s stepped into the room, Patrik’s eyes are on him, and Nikolaj suddenly can’t do anything but stand there.

His body’s burning up. Patrick's eyes trace over him—from his curling toes, up the length of his legs clad in the white lace stockings—and catch on the skirt. Nikolaj presses his thighs together without thinking. He’s too exposed, too vulnerable, like Patrik’s reached inside him and cracked him wide open.

_ Say something_, he thinks, lips parting soundlessly as he tries to speak. _ Please, say something_.

Patrik’s still staring at the skirt. Nikolaj squeezes his thighs together even tighter.

“Niky,” Patrik murmurs. “Niky, you—“

His mouth snaps shut and he stalks forward, and he’s so _ big_—Nikolaj stumbles back a few steps on instinct, breath catching in his throat. Fuck, it’s just—it feels like way too much, way too soon.

Then Patrik’s right in front of him, Patrik’s hands are curling around his waist, warm and big and so tight it hurts. Nikolaj gasps, swaying forward like there’s a magnetic pull between them. “You got all dressed up for me,” Patrik says quietly, his eyes dark and predatory.

Nikolaj‘s trembling. He’s halfway out of his mind from how turned on he is.

Patrik leans in. He kisses the corner of Nikolaj’s mouth, trails a path of feather-light kisses across his jaw that leave Nikolaj breathless. “So pretty for me,” he mumbles, accent catching on every syllable, each word thrumming through Nikolaj’s skin. He kisses just under Nikolaj’s ear, drags his teeth over Nikolaj’s earlobe. “Good girl.”

_ Good girl_.

Arousal crashes into Nikolaj and he _ whines_, high and desperate, clutching at Patrik’s arms and grinding against his hip. His brain’s nothing but buzzing static and those two fucking words.

Patrik stills. “D’you like that?” His fingers pinch Nikolaj’s waist, drawing out another breathless moan. “D’you wanna be my girl?”

Oh fuck. Oh, _ fuck_. Nikolaj’s mindless, burning—

“Hey.” Patrik’s voice cuts through everything, cuts Nikolaj down to the core. He shudders, fingers tightening in Patrik’s suit. Patrik leans back, catching Nikolaj’s gaze and staring straight into him, face set in harsh lines. “Are you my girl, Niky?”

Oh. He—he wants an answer.

Nikolaj sucks down a desperate breath of air. Shame burns in his belly. “Y-yeah.”

Patrik kisses him bruisingly hard. Nikolaj tastes cherry lip gloss and moans into Patrik’s mouth, swaying forward and gripping at him desperately, legs weak and unsteady under his own weight. He wonders if Patrik tastes the lip gloss too.

Just as suddenly Patrik pulls back, leaving Nikolaj gasping. For a long, hot moment he stares, eyes dark and terrifying. Nikolaj can’t look away.

Patrik’s mouth tugs into a crooked grin, mean and mocking. “You’re so desperate already.”

He traces two fingers around the corners of Nikolaj’s lips and Nikolaj opens his mouth, sucking on Patrik’s fingers when he scrapes his fingernails over Nikolaj’s tongue. It’s wet and filthy and Nikolaj thinks he might be drooling. His cheeks burn even brighter. Then Patrik tugs his fingers out and smears Nikolaj’s spit and lip gloss all over his mouth, and Nikolaj shudders out a broken moan. 

“Look at you,” Patrik chides, sweeping his thumb over Nikolaj’s lip. “You’re so sloppy. You’re drooling everywhere, baby, you ruined your makeup.”

Embarrassment flares under Nikolaj’s skin. He shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut. He feels filthy. “Patty—“ he chokes, before another moan slips through his teeth. “Patty, I—“

It’s too much—he’s gonna burn up.

“Shhh.” Patrik digs his thumbnail into Nikolaj’s lower lip. “Look at me.”

Helplessly, Nikolaj does.

Patrik’s cheeks are red, and his eyes are wild. Other than that he’s so calm, so solid, when Nikolaj feels like he’s crumbling apart. Slowly, Patrik’s eyes drag down, lingering around Nikolaj’s mouth, then even lower until he’s staring at Nikolaj’s chest.

Nikolaj’s hands twitch, desperate to come up and cover himself. He stays motionless.

Patrik trails fingertips up Nikolaj’s ribcage before finding the bottom strap of the bralette, tucking his fingers underneath it, pulling breathlessly tight on the other side. A grin curls wide and crooked across his face. “Nice tits.”

“Fu-_uck_,” Nikolaj hiccups. 

Something wicked lights up Patrik’s eyes. “You like that?” He glances up, grinning even wider. “You like me saying your tits are pretty?”

Nikolaj shakes. “Patty,” he says, dragging the syllables out between his teeth, too mindless to say anything else.

Patrik traces his thumbs over the silk straps of the bralette, tugging on them and making Nikolaj squeak. Lace scratches against Nikolaj’s nipples and the electric sensation goes straight to his dick—he hiccups a moan, body buzzing, sparks catching fire just under his skin.

“You’re such a good girl,” and now Patrik’s rambling, low and just a little too rough around the edges, “so pretty for me.”

He pauses, hands splayed around Nikolaj’s ribcage, fingers slotted between his ribs. Blue eyes flick between Nikolaj’s chest and his mouth, down further to the skirt and the stockings. 

Arousal swirls like a fog in Nikolaj’s head. His legs are trembling so hard he can barely keep himself standing. “Patty.” His fingers curl in the sleeves of Patrik’s white button-down, wrinkling the fabric. “Please.”

A moment passes. Nikolaj’s about to shake out of his skin.

Finally, _ finally_, Patrik breaks out of his stillness. He takes Nikolaj by the waist and walks them in stumbling steps towards the bed. Nikolaj doesn’t know what he’s planning and he doesn’t care, he just wants Patrik to kiss him, or touch him, or—or _ anything_. He just wants _ Patrik_.

Patrik sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide and sprawling. Nikolaj stares at his dick, straining against his dress pants, and almost drops to his knees. Fuck, he wants to choke on Patrik’s cock—wants Patrik to grip him by the hair and fuck his mouth and tell him what a good girl he is—

“Here,” Patrik says, and pats his thick thigh. He grins up at Nikolaj. “Be a good girl and ride me.”

Nikolaj can’t swallow back his moan. It’s high-pitched and soft and _ girlish_, and the shame burns even brighter. Fuck. He shouldn’t—he shouldn’t be so _ into _ this.

“Niky,” Patrik says, a little harder, a little deeper.

Patrik’s hands on his waist are too tight. He guides Nikolaj into place, sitting astride Patrik’s thigh, legs spread almost obscenely wide as his stockinged toes slip across the floor looking for purchase. Nikolaj’s off-balance, can’t catch his breath, feels like he can barely control his own body.

Patrik pinches his waist. “Go on, show me how much you want it.” Then his hand is in Nikolaj’s hair, painfully tight as he drags Nikolaj in close. The kiss is messy, biting, mouths and noses crashing together. “Or you’re not getting off at all,” Patrik says when the kiss breaks.

Nikolaj whines wordlessly. _ Too much_.

But. He doesn’t want to be _ bad_. He wants to be good so desperately it’s making him breathless.

Mindlessly, he rocks against Patrik’s leg. It lights his whole body up with something hot and shameful and he does it again, and again, eyes fluttering shut, fingers twisting and curling in Patrik’s shirt as he tries to keep his balance. He rides Patrik’s thigh with his lips parted on a constant moan, and he doesn’t know if it’s the mess Patrik made earlier or if he’s actually drooling. 

Somehow, the humiliation only makes it hotter.

Nikolaj almost jumps when Patrik’s hands tuck up under his skirt. “You look good in this,” Patrik says, rough and ragged. “Your legs, Niky—“ His fingers dig into Nikolaj’s thighs and his teeth dig into Nikolaj’s collarbone and that almost makes him come right fucking then.

“Patty,” Nikolaj mumbles, his voice thick. “I can’t—please—“ His hips buck.

Patrik presses a gentle kiss to the bite mark he left, then leans back. Nikolaj can feel the heat of his gaze, shudders under the weight of it. “You’re really desperate for it,” Patrik comments, and there’s something almost cruel to the casual way he says it. “Just a little grinding and you’re already begging.” 

His grip changes, tightens, and Nikolaj can barely rock against him anymore. A whine spills out of his throat before he can swallow it down.

“Isn’t that a little pathetic, baby?” Patrik croons, and fuck, that’s _ devastating_.

“Please, Patty,” Nikolaj babbles, bucking against Patrik’s iron grip. Fuck, Patrik’s strong. “Please, I need—I need it.”

Patrik laughs. Nikolaj can almost see the look on his face—mouth crooked into a smirk, brows raised, eyes dark and dangerous—and he trembles so hard it’s painful. “I guess,” Patrik says, and his grip loosens, fingertips playing at the hem of Nikolaj’s skirt, “since you’re so desperate to grind on me.”

Fuck. Fuck Patrik and his stupid mouth.

That’s not gonna stop Nikolaj from doing it, though.

He chases the bright, burning edge of his orgasm, gasping out noises as he rocks on Patrik’s thigh, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. Almost too fast he’s tipping over the edge with a high, reedy whine, hips stuttering against Patrik’s thigh as he comes in his panties.

For a second Nikolaj just sits there, gulping down air. 

“Wow,” Patrik murmurs. His hands tuck up under Nikolaj’s skirt again, thumbs sweeping up and down his inner thighs. “Kinda slutty, getting off on my thigh like that. You made a mess of your panties, too.”

Another moan tumbles out of Nikolaj’s throat. “Shut _ up_,” he whines, eyes squeezed shut, face burning. 

Patrik’s laugh rumbles through him. “It’s cute.”

Nikolaj curls in tighter, head hanging. “Patty . . .”

Fingers sweep across his cheekbone and tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Niky,” Patrik croons, and it hits Nikolaj kind of suddenly, how _ feminine _ that sounds. How maybe it’s a deliberate choice, that Patrik keeps saying it. He shudders, leaning into Patrik’s palm. “Look at me?”

Slowly, Nikolaj opens his eyes. He glances up at Patrik through his lashes and the look on Patrik’s face burns him up inside—and the way his smile spreads, easy and careless, makes his heart skitter in his chest.

“That’s my girl,” Patrik murmurs, and Nikolaj barely has a chance to moan before Patrik’s biting a kiss into his mouth.

The kiss only lasts a second. Then Patrik’s rearing back and Nikolaj’s gasping, lips slick with saliva. 

“Now that you’re finally done,” Patrik says, with a pointed, mocking look down to Nikolaj’s hips. Nikolaj’s skin burns even hotter. “It’s my turn.”

He stands—then just as quickly grabs Nikolaj and tosses him on the bed. Nikolaj lands hard on the mattress, the air knocking out of him in a gasp, legs falling open almost instinctively as he stares up at the hard look on Patrik’s face. He feels _ small _ under Patrik’s gaze. Small and fragile and pretty. From this angle, it’s impossible to ignore the soft pink of the skirt and the delicate lace of the stockings.

Patrik follows him, crawling up between his legs like a predatory animal. He grabs the lube from the bedside table, then surges down to kiss Nikolaj, licking at the backs of his teeth. Nikolaj arches into it, fingers curling in the bedsheets.

“You’re so hot,” Patrik murmurs against his mouth, reaching down to drag his fingertips up Nikolaj’s thigh. “So pretty, baby.” 

He hooks two fingers into the panties and tugs them halfway down Nikolaj’s thighs. The lace drags almost painfully over Nikolaj’s oversensitive skin and he whines, legs trembling and toes curling.

Patrik doesn’t waste a lot of time teasing after that. He slicks up his fingers and presses two to Nikolaj’s hole, circling for just a moment before slipping them inside to the knuckle. Electric arousal courses up Nikolaj’s spine, arches his back and makes his eyes roll back. 

“Please,” Nikolaj mumbles. Patrik curls his fingers and it’s too much, Nikolaj’s already oversensitive and overwhelmed—but he grinds down into it, lips parting on a moan.

“Look at you,” Patrik says. His other hand splays over Nikolaj’s stomach, presses down until Nikolaj wheezes. “You’re so wet, babygirl. You’re sloppy.” 

Nikolaj’s breath catches. Patrik—Patrik’s never _ nice_. But this, the way he’s being so casually cruel—it curls under Nikolaj’s skin, burns him up with something hotter than shame.

“Patty.” Nikolaj fumbles at Patrik’s arm, fingers slipping over his shirt. “M’good. You can—y’know.”

Patrik’s mouth quirks, like he’s about to tease. But then his eyes flick down to Nikolaj’s waist, to his hips, and something dangerous flashes over his face. He slips his fingers out and fumbles with his belt, tugging his pants down just enough to free his dick, before lining himself up and filling Nikolaj with one long, smooth thrust.

Nikolaj’s body tightens, trembles—then goes limp.

“God,” Patrik breathes, ducking down to mouth along Nikolaj’s jaw. “You feel so good inside. You’re perfect.”

Nikolaj soaks in the praise, feels drunk on it as he tips his head back and whines. 

Patrik starts up a fast rhythm of thorough, rolling thrusts, biting marks into Nikolaj’s jaw, hand tucked up under the skirt to palm Nikolaj’s ass. He’s sore and sensitive and completely _ mindless _ but Nikolaj feels his orgasm building again, a heavy, hot pressure in the pit of his belly, throbbing in his nipples and his dick. Fuck, he’s going out of his mind.

Then Patrik starts fucking talking; “good girl” and “so sweet for me, baby” and Nikolaj’s _ lost_. He arches into every thrust, gasps out like Patrik’s dick is forcing the air from his lungs, squirms and writhes and shakes as he falls apart.

“Come, Niky,” Patrik murmurs, teeth grazing Nikolaj’s throat, “come for me, babygirl, show me how good you are.”

Nikolaj’s _ gone_.

He comes so hard his vision blanks. Then Patrik follows him right over, latching his teeth around Nikolaj’s jaw and groaning into his skin, his come warm and wet and filthy in Nikolaj’s ass. Nikolaj heaves down air, staring unseeing up at the ceiling, his orgasm still racing through him like lingering electricity.

He thinks he might be whimpering. He’s . . . pretty sure he’s crying. His face feels wet and messy, his throat thick.

A long, quiet moment stretches. Nikolaj listens to the ragged sound of Patrik’s breathing, and the high, delicate whines slipping out of himself. His whole body’s limp and melted, sprawled over the sheets.

Holy shit.

“_Soooo_, um,” Patrik drawls. “Guess you’re my girlfriend now.”

Asshole. Nikolaj hits him, willfully ignoring his own flush. “Shut up. I am _ not _ your girlfriend.”

Patrik laughs. He nuzzles into Nikolaj’s neck, fingers carding through Nikolaj’s hair. “Maybe just sometimes,” he says, then before Nikolaj can respond, “Niky, that was . . . really hot.”

Nikolaj stays quiet. Yeah, it was. But he’s not about to admit that.

“I want a bath,” he says instead, arching his neck to give Patrik more room to cuddle. “Take care of me, Patty. Be a good boyfriend.”

“Duh.” Slowly, Patrik pulls out; Nikolaj winces and squirms at the sloppy feeling of come leaking out of him. He’s still completely limp when Patrik scoops him up, head falling against Patrik’s shoulder. Patrik presses a kiss to his hair. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of my girl?”

Nikolaj shivers. _ My girl. _

He likes that a lot more than he’s willing to admit. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t need to admit it, though. Patrik already knows.

**Author's Note:**

> el em ay oh amiright ladies,
> 
> [tumblr](http://soft-eldritch.tumblr.com/) // [twitter](http://twitter.com/softeldritch)


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